


The Parent Trap (minus the scheming future step-mother)

by Thorkyriebabes



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Exes, F/M, Kid Fic, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26970808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorkyriebabes/pseuds/Thorkyriebabes
Summary: “Honey, is this your first period? Or have you had one before?”“This is the first,” Jane shrugs, cuddling up to her mother. “Dad made sure I was prepared, though. And I’m used to the whole… blood thing.”“You’re what?!” MJ pulls herself away to look Jane in the eyes. “I am going to murder your father. What kind of idiot-”“It’s fine, mom,” Jane sighs, cutting MJ off. “He’s protecting the city. Usually it’s just little scratches. He doesn’t come home if he’s any more injured than that.”Oh, she really is going to kill him. MJ is fuming. She grits her teeth, pulling Jane close again. An eleven year old girl shouldn’t have to fucking deal with her dumbass of a father’s blood stains. MJ’s going to have to revisit their custody agreement- that’s fucking unnacceptable. But, speaking of custody, the kid she’s supposed to have isn’t fucking here. She should have known better than to send her kid to summer camp.“Jane, honey, where the hell is your brother?”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	1. First Periods are Hell

Why is the sink running? And why are little footsteps padding around the kitchen? Michelle groans, looking up at her clock. Fuck. It’s three in the morning. Sighing, she drags herself out of bed and puts on her bathrobe, glasses, and slippers. When she walks into the kitchen (which is way too bright, by the way), she is greeted by the sight of her child holding his bedsheets under the sink, rinsing them out. At first she thinks, ‘great, I thought his bedwetting days were over six years ago,’ but then she gets closer. There’s blood on the sheets. “Holy shit.”

Ben flinches, and MJ rushes over to him, gathering him in her arms. “Honey, are you okay? What happened-” and then. She notices it. Girl’s underwear, bloody in the sink. She pulls away slowly, turning off the water and taking her daughter (and, WOW. Her daughter is here. In her kitchen) by the shoulders. “Jane, sweetheart,” MJ starts, tearing up a little. “Oh, honey, you’re so big,” she smiles through her tears, wrapping her up tight again in her arms. “I haven’t seen you in ten years,” she sighs. Jane seems to just sink into the hug, her tears soaking into the fluffiness of Michelle’s bathrobe. “Honey, you let me deal with this, and you can go borrow a pad from my bathroom, okay?”

Jane nods, leaving the kitchen to go do what Michelle has suggested. And then MJ realizes what should have been obvious the moment she realized Jane was here. Her son isn’t. Shit. She got so caught up in the euphoria of having a child she hasn’t seen in person in ten years in her arms again that she entirely missed it. Pictures forwarded from May and Ned just aren’t enough. But if Jane is here, then where the fuck is Ben? 

Michelle gets the blood out of the sheets and clothes- it might have been ten years, but she’s still got a lot of practice with bloodstains. After she puts them and Jane’s clothes into the wash, she grabs her phone and meets Jane on the couch, pulling her daughter into her lap. “Honey, is this your first period? Or have you had one before?”

“This is the first,” Jane shrugs, cuddling up to her mother. “Dad made sure I was prepared, though. And I’m used to the whole… blood thing.”

“You’re  _ what _ ?!” MJ pulls herself away to look Jane in the eyes. “I am going to murder your father. What kind of idiot-”

“It’s fine, mom,” Jane sighs, cutting MJ off. “He’s protecting the city. Usually it’s just little scratches. He doesn’t come home if he’s any more injured than that.”

Oh, she really is going to kill him. MJ is fuming. She grits her teeth, pulling Jane close again. An eleven year old girl shouldn’t have to fucking deal with her dumbass of a father’s blood stains. MJ’s going to have to revisit their custody agreement- that’s fucking unacceptable. But, speaking of custody, the kid she’s supposed to have isn’t fucking here. She should have known better than to send her kid to summer camp.

“Jane, honey, where the hell is your brother?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in this chapter for allusions to past kidnapping/torture, hospitals, ERs, blood, near-death encounters

“Oh. He’s in New York, with Dad.” 

“You’re telling me- you pulled a fucking Parent Trap, Jane? What the hell were you and Ben thinking? I might expect this from you, considering your father raised you, but Ben should know better.” MJ stands up, opening up her phone to the Delta app, buying tickets for the next flight out from LAX (that she can actually make). “Jane, pack your suitcase, our flight is in four hours.” And, even though it’s barely seven in the morning on the east coast, MJ calls May. 

“Michelle?” May picks up immediately, even though they haven’t actually had a verbal conversation in at least six years. “Honey, are you okay?”

“May, do you have Jane today? Since it’s a Saturday?”

“Yeah, Peter’s got today slated for patrol. He just dropped her off, she’s asleep on the couch.”

“Well, you don’t actually have Jane,” MJ starts, as she throws things into a duffle bag. “Um, I have Jane. She’s here. In LA. You have Ben. They uh- they had the stupid idea to pull a Parent Trap. And apparently it’s working, because I’ll be there by three PM your time.”

“Shit, MJ,” May swears, sipping her coffee. “Do you want me to bring Ben to JFK and pick Jane up?”

“Uh, no, I’ll pick him up from your apartment, if that’s okay. I think I need to spend a bit of time explaining why Peter and I are separated before Ben and I leave.”

“Okay, honey. Do you want me to tell Peter?”

“Absolutely not. Hopefully, he never figures it out, and I don’t have to see his face ever again.”

May sighs. “Michelle, you know he loves you, honey.”

“I have no interest in re-forming an emotional connection with a man who has a death wish, May.”

May sighs. “I understand, MJ. I love you, honey. I’m sorry.”

“I love you too, May. I miss you. I… I’m really sorry it has to be like this.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry Peter refuses to retire.”

“I’ll see you soon, May. I have to finish packing.”

“See you soon, honey,” May agrees, hanging up.

MJ has to call the hospital, using her very precious unpaid time off to take three emergency days. Hopefully that’s long enough to sort this all out. Then, she finishes packing, loads Jane and their bags into the car, and drives to the airport. 

  
  


By the time MJ gets to May’s apartment, May has marched Ben back to his father’s apartment and made him pack up his things, then she’s taken him back to her apartment and made him explain what he was thinking, switching with his sister. When MJ shows up at May’s door, May wraps Michelle up in her arms, holding her close for a moment. MJ just relaxes into it. God, she missed May so much. She almost decides right then and there to move back to New York, just so she can hang out in May’s apartment with her again. And the free childcare would be nice. But what wouldn’t be nice? Chancing running into Spider-Man again. Or his alter-ego, her ex-husband. 

So, she pulls herself out of May’s arms after a moment. “Can I leave their bags here for a little while? I’m gonna take them to get gelato and… we’re gonna talk for a little bit about why they aren’t going to tell Peter this ever happened.”

May looks like she wants to object for a second, but decides against it. Sighing and nodding, May takes Jane’s bag and puts it by her room in May’s apartment, leaving Ben’s bag by the door. 

MJ takes both of her children to the park after they’ve gotten their treats, sitting them down and looking around for a minute before she starts with, “Okay. I know you two probably thought that if you switched places, you could meet your other parent and get to spend time with them. And I  _ know _ that you deserve to spend time with each other and that you deserve to see both of your parents, and I promise I’m going to revisit the custody agreement, but I can’t do this whole Parent Trap thing you’re trying to pull, guys. Your dad and I didn’t divorce because we’d fallen out of love, or because someone cheated, or because of anything that can be fixed. We divorced because…” she sighs, looking around the park.

After verifying that no one is watching, she pulls up her shirt, showing them the scars from her C section and then the scars from the Warehouse. “Do you guys see the difference between these?” She asks, pointing out how the C section scar is a thin, exact line, while the other scars are raised and jagged.

  
  


“That one was surgical,” Jane guesses. “The rest weren’t.”

“Oh,” Ben sighs. “They took you to get to him.”

  
  


“Yeah,” MJ nods, closing her eyes for a moment before she looks at them again. “When he got there, he got into a fight so bad he- he died, guys, for a good three minutes. It took three medics to resuscitate him. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be the supportive, loving wife when he expected me to support... Him continuing, even after all that. So I filed for divorce. We went to mediation, and mutually decided against seeing each other ever again. Part of that included each of us getting total custody of one of you guys and giving up rights for the other. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I wish there was a different way,” MJ sighs. “But there isn’t. I’m never going to ask your dad to stop being a hero. It’s part of who he is. But I can’t be around to watch it.”

Of course, as she’s saying those words, Spider-Man swings through the park on his way to an emergency, but sees them and. Forgets how to swing. He smacks into a building with large glass windows, going through one and getting glass shards embedded through his entire body. Before he passes out from the pain, he manages to make his way over to the person he’s pretty sure is his ex-wife. Or, at least, he manages to make it within a hundred feet of her.

MJ starts to panic wordlessly, for a moment, and then she sees her daughter getting up to run towards him, and she glances over at her rental car. Ben gets the idea, telling his sister to help him load Spider-Man into the backseat. Fuck, she’s so not getting her deposit back. She unlocks the car as the kids pick him up, getting into the driver’s seat while they lay him out on the backseat, then both manage to buckle up in the passenger seat. It’s actually quite seamless, the way they know what to do without asking each other. Probably a Twin thing. Or a friendship thing. Or a fucking spider powers thing. 

As MJ drives towards the nearest ER, she can’t help but feel a little pissed off. Or a lot. The kids shouldn’t have to pick up their unconscious father so she can take him to the ER. They shouldn’t have to see him injured. And this injury wasn’t even from some villain! It was from Peter being a dumbass and going through a window at a stupidly high velocity. God, he’s such a fucking idiot. This is why they got divorced. This is why being around him is never going to work out. 

MJ manages to hold her tongue long enough to tell her twins, “look, we have to pretend like we were just helpful bystanders, guys. The people outside the hospital can’t connect us to him, got it? The less people that know you know Spider-Man, the better. Trust me. I’m sure they’ll call May when he’s inside, and then we can come with her to see him.”

Ben goes to protest immediately, looking back at his bleeding idiot of a father hesitantly, but Jane shakes her head, telling him, “Mom is right, Ben. If people figure out that we know him, we could get hurt. ” Ben doesn’t want to accept this, but Jane has a very firm hand on his arm and a scowl on her face, and he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut when MJ pulls up to the ER and gets out of the driver’s side, yelling, “Hey, Spider-Man needs help, he crashed into a building!” 

MJ drives away, after they take him, doing circles around the block to pass the time. Finally, her phone rings. But it’s not May, it’s a number she doesn’t recognize. “Hello? This is Dr. Jones speaking, how may I assist you today?” Michelle greets, her standard greeting when she’s not sure who’s calling her. 

“Hello, I’m trying to reach a Michelle Parker-Jones? This is the New York Presbytarian Emergency Department.”

“Fuck you, Peter Parker,” MJ whispers, under her breath. “This is  _ Doctor  _ Michelle  _ Jones _ ,” MJ confirms. 

“Well, alright, Dr. Jones. I’m calling on behalf of Peter Parker, you’re listed as his emergency contact here.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. I have his children with me, will they be allowed to see him as well?”

“Yes ma’am. He’s in room seven, when you get to the visitor’s desk.”

Both the kids exhale in relief when she hangs up, and MJ sighs. “It takes more than that level of dumbassery to really hurt your dad, guys. I’m sure it’ll all work out fine,” she reassures them, finding a parking spot in the parking garage and grabbing her purse, tugging her hair into a tight bun at the crown of her head as they all get out of the rental car. “He’s going to pay the deposit for that,” MJ mutters, when she sees the blood in the backseat. 

Ben takes her hand, tugging her towards the bridge into the hospital, and MJ sighs, locking the car before jogging with them into the hospital, following the signs to the ER. She approaches the administration/visitor’s desk, pulling her ID out of her bag and putting it down on the counter. “I’m here to see Peter Parker? They told me he’s in room seven.” 

“Are you his emergency contact?”

“Apparently.”

“Relation?”

“He’s my ex-husband,” MJ sighs, looking back at the kids. “Look, his kids really need to see that he’s okay.”

“Yes ma’am,” the volunteer nods, getting up to escort them to Peter’s bed. “We don’t have many private rooms available right now, so he’s been relocated to area three. I apologize, it’s a bit loud.”

“I understand, don’t worry,” MJ smiles at them, waving when the volunteer turns around after bringing them to the right curtained off section. MJ opens the curtain, stepping in with the kids to see some poor med student picking glass out of Peter’s torso while Peter sleeps. It appears that after the surgeons were able to stop most of the bleeding, they decided they needed the OR too urgently to finish the job. Typical. MJ sighs, sitting on one of the stools. Both the kids, however, go over to him, each of them taking one of his hands.

“Dad?” Jane asks him, squeezing his hand. 

“He’s on a pretty strong morphine drip, hon’,” MJ shakes her head. “He’s probably not gonna wake up for a little while.”

“Oh,” Jane sighs, sitting down on a stool out of the way. Her brother follows her, sitting next to her with a glum look on his face. Their dad is hurt, and neither of the kids like sitting around and doing nothing. They get that from their mother, of course. 

MJ pulls out her phone after a little while, texting May about what’s going on and asking her to come get the kids. Apparently, MJ needs to actually talk to her ex-husband. One, about the whole ‘still using your ex-wife as your emergency contact even when she’s across the entire country and you haven’t communicated in ten years’ thing. Two, about the custody thing. 

The thing is, by the time May gets there to pick up the kids, MJ’s considerably softened. By the time someone comes to take Peter off his IV painkillers, hours later, she’s decided she can handle at least a thirty minute drive with him back to May’s. 


	3. Chapter 3

The thing is, when Peter wakes up, she’s the first thing he sees. His face lights up for a moment, and then he asks her, “are you real, Em?,” his voice cracking a little. Like he’s about to cry. When she moves to move his bed, sitting him up, he mutters, “wow, you’re really here,” and goes totally quiet, just staring at her like he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing and driving her away again. 

“I’m really here, Parker,” MJ sighs, pulling the wheelchair over from where the CNA left it. “Come on, let’s get you checked out and I’ll take you back to May’s,” she offers, wrapping her arm around him to help him into it. Michelle can’t believe she’s actually doing this, touching him again. Taking him home from an ER, again. Changing him out of a medical gown and into the spare change of clothes May brought, again.

It’s not until she’s wheeling him out of the room that MJ hears him mumble “Jones-Parker, MJ.” Fuck you, Peter. Fuck you. First of all, what gives Peter the right to keep her name as part of his? What, does he think keeping it is some romantic gesture or something? It’s not. It’s creepy. They divorced. End of story. End of marriage. But MJ doesn’t say any of that. Because Peter, probably still a little high, keeps looking back at her like her being here is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And she doesn’t have the heart to shatter whatever reunion fantasy he’s got built up in his head yet. She’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s sober.

Technically, Peter is checking out against medical advice, but it’s fine. She can handle anything else that comes up. By the time he’s in her car, MJ’s pretty sure he’s mostly sober. So she turns to him as she’s starting the car, asking, “Pete, why the fuck am I your emergency contact?” 

MJ’s tone is harsh. Peter recoils like she’s hit him. Emotionally, she has. He’s still head over heels for her. MJ can see it on his face in the way he keeps looking at her. But Peter takes a deep breath, holding her eyes while he tells her: “Because, Em. I know we weren’t- I know we weren’t exactly being nice to each other, towards the end, but… If I was dying, the last voice I’d want to hear would be yours.”

Oh. FUCK you, Peter Parker. Peter Jones-Parker. Asshole. You don’t get to just- to just do that. To say shit like that. MJ’s lip curls up in anger, ~~masking the deep sadness that echoes through her chest~~. “Peter, what makes you think I’d want to talk to you? I divorced you to get away from your self-sacrificial bullshit. Which you clearly haven’t stopped, because apparently our daughter is used to washing bloodstains out of things. To seeing you come home bleeding. She’s _eleven,_ Peter. What the fuck?”

Peter shrinks in the seat, resting his head on his knees. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the guilt clearly eating at him now that she’s brought it up. “I’ll do better, I promise. I haven’t even- it’s just that recently, there’s this one dude that’s been-“

“No, Peter. There aren’t any excuses for that,” MJ shakes her head, backing out of her parking space. “You need to rethink your priorities. Again. I thought leaving her with you would make you realize there’s something more important than your bullshit, but clearly I was wrong. We’re going to go back to mediation, Peter.”

“Em-“

“Michelle to you, Parker.” 

“Michelle, please,” Peter begs, his voice cracking. “I promise, _Jane is my priority._ ”

“It doesn’t seem like it. You didn’t even notice that she was all the way across the country,” MJ rolls her eyes. “Or that the kid you had here wasn’t her.”

“MJ, what?” 

“Michelle,” MJ reminds him, and continues with, “and they switched places. At camp. Like in the Parent Trap. But without the weird step-mom plot.”

“What do you mean, they swapped places at summer camp? I picked Jane up a week ago, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed.”

“Peter, _I_ didn’t even notice that they’d managed to do it until Jane got her first period in Ben’s bed and I realized that she wasn’t a little cis boy like my son is. Somehow, they nailed each other’s mannerisms, looks, tendencies, everything.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. I’m one hundred percent serious, Peter.”

“Fuck.”

“So you were here to… switch them, then,” he concludes, looking out the window. He seems… defeated, almost. Like he’d hoped she was here for a better reason. “And what, get a mediation date or something?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” MJ shrugs. “I have a pretty damn good job, Parker. I plan on going back to it.”

“What do you do?” Peter asks, genuinely curious. 

“I’m an OBGYN. I’m a fellow at UC Irvine Medical Center.”

“Oh. Holy shit. That’s kind of- wow, MJ,” Peter smiles wide, forgetting that they’re supposed to hate each other because he’s so clearly proud of her. “Wow. You’re a doctor. I mean, I knew you’d been planning on applying to medical school, but… wow...”

“Thanks, loser,” Michelle laughs at him, her eyes crinkling around the edges. For a moment, she can almost forget all the problems with their relationship. For the briefest moment, MJ forgets how angry he makes her, how neglected she felt in the months leading up to their divorce, how emotionally exhausted she was all the time. For the briefest moment, it’s like all those years apart fade away, like all their issues fade away. Like she’s in love with him again. But then she remembers, and the moment is over. 

“What do you plan on doing after your fellowship?”

That’s a good question. She’s been in California for years. It feels like home. Almost. It almost feels like home. But as always, it’s missing something. MJ sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll start looking for good hospital and private practice jobs. I’ll probably go with something in an area with a good school district and decent pay for my education level,” Michelle shrugs, “and in my off time, when I’m not spending it with Ben, I’ll find a low cost clinic to volunteer at. Maybe a Planned Parenthood or something.” 

“You’ll do amazing wherever you are, Em,” Peter keeps smiling at her. MJ melts a little. Doesn’t correct him for using a nickname. “Wow. Dr. Jones,” he grins at her. He still clearly hasn’t snapped back to the reality of them not getting along. Michelle can’t even blame him. 

To be polite, and because she’s trying to figure out if he’s going to end up asking for child support now that she’s making significantly more than she was when they divorced, MJ asks, “So, uh, did you end up pursuing graduate school? What exactly do you do for work?”

“Oh. I did, actually,” Peter nods. “I got a Doctorate of Engineering in chemical engineering and an MBA. I, uh, actually have my own company, now.”  
  
“And it’s doing well?” MJ asks, because owning a company doesn’t necessarily mean someone’s successful. 

“So far, yeah,” Peter confirms. “I mean, this is only our second year as a company, and we’ve been pretty rapidly expanding, but so far everything is pretty stable.”

“Oh. That’s pretty amazing, Peter,” MJ admits, and as they get nearer to May’s, MJ bites her lip. “Do you want to maybe talk for a bit before we go back to May’s? At, uh, your place?”

“Oh,” Peter breathes out. He’s nervous. His place is probably messy or something. But he nods anyways, despite his apparent nerves. “Sure. Um, my building is just across the street, anyways.”

“Oh, alright,” MJ agrees, starting to look for a parking spot. “Um, just- out of curiosity, how did Jane do in school last year? Is she doing alright? Getting adequate support?”

“She’s doing great, Em,” Peter smiles just thinking about how smart his daughter is. “She’s just like you. Her teacher called home at least once a week last year to tell me she refused to stop reading under her desk instead of paying attention to the lesson. Of course, I told her every time that ‘if your lessons weren’t so far below her skill level, maybe she’d pay more attention,’ and that really pissed her off,” he laughs, picking up his phone, scrolling through his pictures. “She won a Wordmasters competition for the district, actually,” he grins, showing MJ the picture of Jane holding up her certificate.

Michelle smiles at it, zooming in on her face. “Can you send this to me?” 

“Yeah,” Peter nods, doing that while MJ gets out of the car, her stomach filled with butterflies. 

“You know, Jane’s basically your clone, MJ,” Peter states as he gets out of the car, looking over at her. “She’s just like you in so many ways, it’s crazy.”

MJ sighs. He’s looking at her with that soft, sappy look in her eyes. “I can tell. I’d… I’d like to spend more time with her. Or like, arrange a weekly video call or something,” MJ offers, following him inside his building once she’s locked the car.


	4. gimme! gimme! gimme! (a man after midnight)

MJ’s not quite sure how updating each other on the kids turned into her complaining to him about the shittiest dates she’s been on in the last ten years. She’s pretty sure it has something to do with the wine. Probably. But for some reason, she finds herself telling him about the time that “well, Dave took me back to his apartment, since I’d paid the sitter to stay the night. I mean, he looked decent enough. But apparently, he was dumber than a bag of bricks. I mean, I’m a fucking gynecologist- and he still couldn’t follow my instructions on how to find a fucking clit,” she scoffs, sipping her wine. “That night probably takes first place for most unsatisfying sex I’ve ever had.” 

To his merit, Peter just laughs, smiling at her. Like he has been all night. “I think that should have been expected, MJ, his name was Dave,” he jokes, stretching out to lay his calves on her lap. “My experience with Daves has been pretty shitty.”   
  


MJ raises her eyebrows at that, resting her hand on his leg. “You’ve also dated a Dave?”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter chuckles, “he couldn’t find my prostate, either. I mean, I wouldn’t call it dating, it was more like a one night stand,” he shrugs, reaching for his bottle to take a sip. “Should I ask May if she can keep the kids for the night?”

“Fuck,” MJ laughs, looking at the empty wine bottle on the table, “yeah, probably,” she agrees, tossing him his phone. “I don’t like to be around Ben if I’ve had anything to drink,” MJ admits, “but I rarely drink because I’m usually on call,” she adds. 

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, “I mean, sometimes I’ll have a beer if I’m working on paperwork, but that’s not enough to make me actually…”   
  


“Yeah, I know,” MJ laughs at him, massaging his calves out of a long-forgotten habit. “You and your freaky metabolism,” she grins, watching his face. His lips. His jaw. Fuck. She’s about to do something she’ll regret tomorrow, isn’t she?

“You feeling alright, Em?” He asks her, looking a little concerned. “Do you need another snack?,” he gestures to her empty plate- once full of apple slices and peanut butter, now empty. 

MJ glances at her plate, then at his lips. Then at her plate. Then at him. “I hate you, Peter,” she reminds him, before surging forward, planting her lips on his, straddling him and gripping his shirt by his collar. She’s interpreted how he’s been looking at her all day correctly, because rather than protest that they’re divorced and shouldn’t be doing this, he sinks right in, pushing his hands up her shirt. Fuck. Goddamn it, Peter. “Fuck,” MJ gasps, the moment his thumb brushes her nipple. “We’re really doing this?” MJ asks him, grinding down over his hips. 

“You started it, you tell me,” Peter sasses, rolling his hips against hers.

“Fuck you, Peter,” MJ rolls her eyes, moving from his lips to his neck, before leaning back because she’s decided that his shirt is in the way and she needs it off him.   
  
“I’d say yes, but you didn’t bring a strap,” he quips. MJ shuts him up by yanking his shirt over his head and pushing him down to the couch, trapping his arms over his head by wrapping the shirt around his wrists. With anyone else, she’d be concerned about doing so, considering they’d just left the hospital. But Peter’s skin is already scarred over, no risk of her injuring him with this. At least, not physically.

“Next time,” she rolls her eyes, pulling off her own shirt, next, before lowering her head down to his shoulder, leaving harsh bruises across his neck and shoulders in the form of hickeys. “Sass me again and risk a spanking, baby boy,” she warns him, which elicits a quiet moan and a whine, like he’s begging her to do it anyways. She can feel his dick straining against his pants, eager at the prospect of what they’re about to do. 

“Please, Em,” Peter begs, his voice cracking. “Want you, please.”

“I know, baby,” MJ grins, pulling her pants off, pressing her lips to his. Somehow, when she’s distracted kissing him, he’s worked his hands free, and MJ gasps when she feels his fingers brush her clit. “Fuck, Peter.”   
  


“See? I didn’t even need an anatomy lesson,” he jokes, stroking her through her pants, his other hand gripping her ass. 

MJ rolls her eyes, rolling her hips against his hand for a moment. “I hate you,” she reminds him and he rolls his eyes, squeezing her ass to pull her closer against him. Fuck. “Pants. Off.”  
  
“Bedroom?” Peter suggests, and MJ agrees, getting up with him and swaying on her feet. But before she actually has to sit back down, he picks her up off her feet, pushing her up against the wall to mark her neck up like she’s done to him. 

“Peter, good god,” Michelle groans, wiggling out of her pants and wrapping her legs around his torso, her arms around his shoulders. “Bedroom,” she reminds him of their end goal, panting a little even while he remains perfectly able to breathe at a normal speed. Rude superhumans with their dumb powers. 

“I’m not God,” Peter teases, then lifts her up on his shoulders, kissing along the insides of her thighs while she leans back against the wall. Holy shit. And then his tongue is swirling around her clit, and his fingers are inside of her. Michelle forgets how to breathe for a solid fifteen seconds, her eyes falling shut as she tangles her fingers in his hair. She pulls just a little, and Peter moans, sending low vibrations through her body. 

They’re not even in the bedroom yet, and somehow, Peter’s already brought her to her first orgasm. Damn him and his stupid tongue. When he feels her legs clamp down around his ears, she feels his stupid grin against her skin. “Bedroom,” MJ repeats, the moment she’s able to speak again. “Now,” she demands, and Peter is more than happy to comply, carrying her and her now jelly-like legs to his room. MJ ignores the mess on his floor and the bloodstains on the comforter, because Peter’s taking off his pants and then he’s kissing her. Fuck.

  
Peter doesn’t waste any time, moving MJ’s leg aside and pushing in, and. Holy shit, MJ’s forgotten how good they were at this. Even when they’d started fighting, they’d still had fucking phenomenal sex. He manages to remember exactly the pace, depth, and angle she likes, and it takes all of her willpower to keep her eyes open to watch him.   
  
Well, that is, until he has his hand in her hair, and he’s tugging at it with just enough force to make her lose her breath, gasping his name. Michelle’s eyelids fall halfway shut, and she arches her back into it, her hips automatically matching his tempo as her fingers find her clit. “Fuck, Peter, just like that,” she encourages him, and damn. Damn. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. “FUCK!” MJ shouts, her legs shaking as she comes (ha) undone. A moment later, he’s drawing out of her, finishing himself with his hand until MJ, at the last possible moment, wraps her lips around his cock, swallowing as he comes down her throat.   
  
Satisfied, MJ sits back, studying him for a moment. “Okay, fine. You’ve still got it, Peter,” she compliments him, crawling under the covers of the bed. What? She’s exhausted, she doesn’t need an excuse beyond that at this point. Also, she’s exhausted. She’s been up for nearly thirty hours. The moment he joins her, she lays her head on his chest, and she’s out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... mj, you're an obgyn. you're smart. peter, you're an EngD, you're smart. So why, when I put you two together, do I get a pair of fucking dumbasses?


	5. Where it all began, ended, and began anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for mentions of torture, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, mentions of divorce proceedings.

Asking her to spend holidays with him? Really, Peter? That’s the best you could come up with? MJ shakes her head, sighing and closing her eyes for a moment before she starts walking up the stairs in May’s building. At least he’s eating. Sleeping. Taking care of himself. Going on dates. Being a normal person, more or less. Minus the whole deliberately getting into fights as his alter-ego thing. But she’ll take what she can get. At least her daughter has a dad that loves her more than anything else in the world. Michelle steps into May’s apartment, closing the door behind her and sitting down with May on the couch, closing her eyes. Eventually, Ben gets up. Thankfully, before his sister. The first thing Ben asks when he sees her is, “Is dad okay? Is he out of the hospital?”  
  


“Yeah, honey,” MJ nods. “He’s okay. He’s just tired.”

“Can I say goodbye to him? I really liked spending the week with him… he’s a really good dad, Mom. Even though he thought I was Jane. He made breakfast every morning, and he even let me help him work on his web-shooters with him!” 

MJ bites her lip, looking over at May for advice. But May holds up her hands. “I’m not getting involved, MJ. You know my policy.”   
  


Thanks, May. MJ sighs, nodding. “Alright, Ben. We can drop Jane off with him when he’s done working, okay? I’ll reschedule our flight for a later one this evening.”

“Really?!” Ben grins, hugging her tightly.   
  


“Yeah, really,” MJ sighs, getting her phone out to call in for the night shift she was supposed to have tonight, explaining to her supervisor the whole… parent trap situation. Her supervisor, luckily, believes her. Even tells her that she’ll make sure the team goes for drinks after MJ’s next day shift, because the whole situation is just absolutely fucked. MJ chuckles at that, agreeing to it, and then she hangs up to hug her kid. 

“MJ, do you wanna take that new book I got?” May asks, after Ben’s been sufficiently squeezed, “I was planning on sending you the e-book, but I know you prefer physical copies,” she offers, gesturing at the one on the end table next to MJ. MJ smiles at her, picking up the book. “Thanks, May,” she nods, putting it in her purse. “Um, do you… wanna maybe take the kids out with me? For the day?”

“I’d love to, MJ,” May smiles back at her, moving over to hug her again. MJ just sinks into it. God, she’s so tired. “I’ve missed you so much, honey. I know you’re leaving again but… maybe I could bring Jane for some weekends, since I’ll have her anyways.”

MJ pauses. After thinking about it for a good, solid five minutes, she comes to the conclusion that having May visit her, having her daughter visit her- that would be nice. “How about I tell you what weekends I have off each month?” MJ offers. Cross country flights are expensive, though, so she adds, “I can pay for your flights.”

“Oh, honey, I would never make you do that,” May shakes her head. “I have enough, I promise. I can afford a trip to California every so often, as long as we can stay at your place.”

“May, I can’t ask you to pay for the flights,” MJ shakes her head, but Jane looks at her with these eyes, looking almost exactly like her father in that moment. MJ melts, sighing. “Alright, okay. I’ll try to schedule a consistent weekend off once a month, then,” she agrees, hugging Jane, before turning to her son to suggest an activity for the day.  
  
“Ben, how does a trip to MoMA sound?” She asks, and Ben tilts his head, asking, “What’s MoMA?”

“It’s an art gallery, honey,” May laughs, going to get her things together so they can leave. “It’s one of your mom’s favorite places in the city, besides this apartment.”

MJ gives May a teary smile. May’s right. This apartment _is_ her favorite place in the entire city. This is where Peter proposed. Not in their old apartment, or at a fancy restaurant, but here, at May’s, at a family dinner with May, Happy, Peter, Morgan, and Pepper over burnt (but well-seasoned) chicken and slightly overcooked (sorry, May) rice. They’d been talking about it for months, and he’d finally gotten the guts up to ask May’s opinion earlier that afternoon. Excited by May’s encouragement, Peter had blurted the question out as MJ had taken a bite of her chicken. 

This apartment is where her twins were born six months after their wedding, a precipitous labor leading to May being the one to help guide them out while Peter was desperately trying to end a battle with a man made of rocks so he could be present for the birth of his children. He hadn’t made it in time to help May with Jane, but he was there to hold her while May guided Ben’s head out, then his shoulders. Peter was there while she pushed out the placenta to hold her hand and whisper small encouragements, both twins laid against her chest. Sure, he was pretty badly concussed, but he was still there. 

This apartment is where she’d waited while Peter went under for an eighteen hour surgery following a battle with a woman who could move faster than his eyes could track, who could jump higher than his webs could take him, a woman who had a knife. 

This apartment is where she’d stayed when Peter started going on missions, leaving her in the city to travel to undisclosed locations, promising that he was only doing this so he could get them better health insurance, that he’d quit the moment he could. 

This apartment is where she’d stayed after he’d found her unconscious in a warehouse, bruised and cut up and battered. Tortured. After the hospital stay, she’d refused to go back to their apartment, begging him to just let her and the twins stay with May. He’d given in easily, the guilt eating and eating at him. 

This apartment is where she’d first called a divorce lawyer, after talking to May about it for weeks. This apartment is where they’d signed the divorce papers, where they’d had mediation and agreed to each getting sole custody of one of the twins.

This apartment is where everything began. This apartment is where everything had ended. This apartment is where she’d stayed for the months where their divorce was pending. This apartment is where she’d filled out all of her medical school applications. This apartment is where she’d begun anew. 

Their day at MoMA is exciting, fun, and makes her heart ache. MJ doesn’t let herself think about it too much. They drop Jane off with Peter afterwards, letting Ben say goodbye and soon, she and Ben are on a plane back to Irvine.


End file.
